


Practice

by sunsroom



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsroom/pseuds/sunsroom
Summary: Short Pieces written based on prompts send in by followers





	1. Edge of Night

**Author's Note:**

> written to/inspired by 'Edge of Night' ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Zr6g9Sj7u8 )

They stand atop a peak, a tarn. Wind whipping past their robes and through their hair. Below them, valleys and waters, ferns and heather, vast expanses of peat and moorland. The wind begins to rise as they step in time with each other. A silent music travelling on the wind that only they can hear. A yellow scarf is ripped away from the first dancer’s neck and it flies, over the hill, a long flag fluttering in the gale. Intertwined they dance barefooted on the mossy earth, each step sure and smooth. It is growing, deeper and stronger and darker, growing with every step they take; rippling throughout the valley as they dance. Ever connected and never stopping; to pause for even a moment is unthinkable. Curled saffron strand lashing at her cheeks, flowing in the hair as her skirts billow. Beside her the other dancer waits, supports her as she reaches for the sky. Closer and farther and closer again, the cliff edge overlooking the darkening landscape. Together the women dance. In the glow of the setting sun they still for a moment, gazing into each other. Crimson and black, brown to green, dark to pale. A softness breaks through the storm, a glimmer. And then they fall. Together, intertwined for eternity, their hair and clothes entangling as they plummet into the waters.


	2. Cassiopeia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on a prompt sent to me on tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sunburns, freckles, hopeless romantic because every person is just so cute. Gender what even is that? And oh the stars are so beautiful."

Coiled, dark hair in a small bun. Olive skin flushed pink from the sun, causing freckles to shine like the constellations Cassiopeia is named for.   
She blushes a lot. Her parents say she is blessed by Aphrodite, both beautiful and loving to all. A soft jaw paired with a calloused hand. During the day she gardens, growing fruits and flowers and veggie; and at night she looks out into the clear, open skies.   
And like so many beloved by the gods, and often the gods themselves, as she grows she finds herself less and less needing of gender. Cassiopeia is Cassiopeia. She will love who she will love, their affections will grown and flourish like her plants until they find their place among the stars like so many before them.


	3. Ghostly Galleon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "the sky is darker than any shade of black I've ever seen, we're sitting between trees and look at the big moon shining bright but only thing I can think about is your beautiful eyes brighter than moon and any star on the sky"
> 
> I also took lines from Alfred Noyes' The Highwayman

“The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.” - Alfred Noyes

The line stuck with me, and now it resonated. The emptiness freeing, the words floating beneath my diaphragm and between my ribs. It's late, late enough to be early; but all I can see are his eyes. Staring up at that ghostly galleon, wondering if she's looking back at the two of us. His eyes reflecting silver, a glimmer in the darkness.

He doesn't look away, but it doesn't bother me. His warmth radiated through me and fights away the chills of the night. I am safe here, wrapped in his arms, curled into his side beneath a copse of trees. The wind cold between these gusty trees, but together it is warm.

I look up with him, to stare across the universe. The sky above us is darker than the daughter’s hair, it is darker than her eyes, but it is lit bright. Lit bright by the ribbon of moonlight, pulled from her hair as she watches us. But no treasure in that jeweled sky holds a candle to his eyes. No piece of silver or precious gem would I ever hold as dear to me as him.


End file.
